


Strangers in a Dark Room

by shiftylinguini



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Blow Jobs, Come Shot, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Facials, Light Bondage, M/M, Marked Draco Malfoy, Rentboy Draco Malfoy, Sexual Roleplay, scar kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11783058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiftylinguini/pseuds/shiftylinguini
Summary: Harry clenches his jaw, sets the files down on the desk between them. “Remind me what you were picked up for again?” he asks pointedly, hands resting over the smooth paper.“Oh,” Draco shakes his head dismissively, “who can remember. Loitering, was it?”“Soliciting, Malfoy!”





	Strangers in a Dark Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bixgirl1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bixgirl1/gifts).



> Dearest lovely bixgirl1, you are _such_ a fucking delight to have here in fandom, and this is also completely and utterly your fault. *blinks innocently*
> 
> I hope you enjoy this filthy romance on not-your-birthday ;) <3

*

“So, Mr Malfoy.” Harry turns a page of his thick dossier, sighing. “Here we are again.”

At the lack of response from the room’s other occupant, Harry returns his attention to the thick stack of files in his hand. He licks his thumb, turns another page. 

“I was hoping this wouldn’t happen again.”

Across from him, Draco leans back in his chair. He can’t go far, arms pulled behind the wooden frame as they are, cuffed in light silver metal. Harry wonders if it’s tight enough, if it maybe hurts. Without looking up, Harry tightens the cuffs with a flick of his wand, listens to Draco hiss. Best to be on the safe side, Harry thinks, pleased. He looks up to see Draco’s eyes narrow, his nostrils flaring before he plasters a sweet smile on his face. 

“Were you, now?” Draco asks conversationally, and Harry swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing against the starched collar of his shirt. “And there I was, so looking forward to our next little meeting.”

“Malfoy,” Harry repeats, and Draco grins, baring straight white teeth. 

“Call me Draco.”

“ _Malfoy_.” Harry clenches his jaw, sets the files down on the desk between them. “Remind me what you were picked up for again?” he asks pointedly, hands resting over the smooth paper.

“Oh,” Draco shakes his head dismissively, “who can remember. Loitering, was it?”

“ _Soliciting_ , Malfoy!”

“Ah, yes.” Draco closes his eyes, nodding in amused concession as if he’s only just recalled what he was arrested for doing. “Yes, there’s that too.”

“This is no laughing matter,” Harry replies sternly. “We’ve had you in here three times over the last, what is it, two months? And all for serious offences.” He starts listing them off on his fingers. “Lewd and lascivious behaviour, possession of illegal narcotics, public indecency,” Draco raises a brow at that one, as if it really is news to him, and Harry flushes, but continues, “and now soliciting in public. This has to stop!”

“I know.” Draco sighs, looking at Harry seriously. At least it would be serious, if not for the smile dancing around his lips. 

“And how do you suggest we make that happen, then?”

Draco shrugs, casual despite the cuffs, and Harry scowls. “You could tell your men to stop being so obsessed with me?” Draco offers.

Harry lets his hands slap down on the table, infuriated. 

“They’re not obsessed with you, Draco, they’re just doing their job!” Harry runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “They’re doing what I tell them to do.”

“Ah,” Draco nods again, this time in understanding, “so it’s _you_ who’s obsessed with me, then?” 

“Wha ― no!” Harry’s shoulders tense. “No!” he repeats, straightening his glasses. “You need to stop getting picked up.”

“By you, or the Johns?”

“Both!” Harry shakes his head. “No, the Johns!” he clarifies, flustered. He stands, walking around to the front of his interrogation desk. It’s not usual procedure to bring prisoners up here before they are processed, away from the cells, and definitely not at this time of night, but Harry made an exception for this ― for _Malfoy_. Harry looks at his sharp grey eyes, his high cheekbones, the sweep of pale hair across his forehead. It’s just long enough to curl behind his ears, long enough for Harry to slip his hands into it and ― 

Harry snaps himself back to attention. 

“This is the last time, Malfoy.” His voice is low, stern. He tries to keep the tremor of excitement out of it. 

“That sounds very serious, Auror Potter,” Draco looks up through that gentle fall of hair. Harry can’t stop the flash of heat in his gut at the sight. 

He clears his throat. “Then how about you take it seriously, for once?”

“Oh, you know me, Harry.” Draco smiles, lopsided, spreading his legs as far as he can in the high-backed, Ministry order chair. “I never take things seriously. 

Harry swallows his groan. He kicks Draco’s foot lightly, thick Auror boots meeting smooth italian leather. 

“Potter,” he mouths, and Draco widens his eyes, then his legs a little further too. “ _Sorry_ ,” he silently mouths back, arranging his fine features into a smoky pout. 

“Am I on my final chance then, _Potter_?” he amends. 

“You were on it last time,” Harry snaps, folding his arms. 

“What does that mean?” Draco’s expression turns wary. 

“It means, Draco,” Harry sits back against the desk, “that you’re spending the night in a cell.”

Draco’s mouth pinches into a line. “A _cell_?” he drawls. “There can’t be any need for something as crass as that.”

“Three strikes, Malfoy.” Harry sighs, for effect. “I’m afraid my hands,” he flicks his gaze to Draco’s bound wrists, “are tied on this one.” He lets the satisfaction show. 

Draco glares. Harry’s heart skips a beat, his cock thickening in his black woollen trousers. His lips twist as he tries to contain his smirk; he loves seeing Draco look at him like that. 

Draco tilts his head, glancing away. He shakes his hair away from his eyes, then levels Harry with a heated gaze. 

“Surely there,” Draco leans forwards, arms straining against the metal cuffs, “is something I can do to avoid a night in a cell?” he purrs. Harry narrows his eyes, face heating. 

“Your money’s worth nothing here, Malfoy,” he retorts, watching Draco’s jaw harden. Harry suppresses another shiver of excitement. 

“I wasn’t referring to _money_ ,” Draco hisses, eyes never leaving Harry’s. 

“What else could you possibly have to offer me?” Harry knows it’s a dangerous game, asking this question, but he can’t stop himself. He lives for these moments, when he can tip toe along that knife edge, can make Draco look at him like that.

“You know what I have to offer.” Draco’s tone is low, as he leans away from the chair. His arms are still pulled behind it, muscles taut as they strain against the metal handcuffs, and Harry licks his lips. He leans forwards, face inches from Draco’s own. 

“I’m not one of your punters, Malfoy,” He keeps his voice low and even, despite the flicker of anticipation tightening in his chest. 

“No.” Draco’s eyes flick from Harry’s mouth, to his eyes, then back again. He tilts his head, exposing the long curve of his neck. “You don’t have to pay, ” he whispers, licking his lips. “It won’t cost _you_ a cent.”

Harry chokes down a sound, a groan. It's too early in the game for him to be this turned on, but his cock is _hard_ , thick and heavy against the material of his trousers, and Draco knows it. 

“Is that supposed to tempt me, Malfoy?” Harry rumbles, and Draco bites his lower lip, craning forwards. His arms must be killing him, bent at that angle. For some reason, that’s only turning Harry on more, making his voice rasp slightly as he talks. “Am I supposed to like the idea that this isn't some fuck in a seedy hotel, that I I don't need to leave a tidy pile of Galleons by the bedside to thank you for your time?” 

Draco’s smile turns feral, his gaze hard enough to cut diamonds. 

“I know that it tempts you,” Draco whispers, parting his mouth a little and flicking his tongue out to wet his lips. “Although, from that little picture you painted, I’m pretty sure you want me in a hotel, too, Harry.” His eyes trail down knowingly to the bulge in Harry’s trousers. He raises one brow. “I'm pretty sure you’d love to know all about the things we could get up to in there.” 

“Is that so?” Harry croaks. 

“Oh yes.” Draco presses his tongue into his cheek, his expression cocky, heated. “Almost as much as you’d love to fuck Draco Malfoy, the pretty rentboy you picked up off the street and tied up in your office,” he whispers, eyes glinting with challenge, with humour ― with fondness. “That’s why I'm here isn't it?” 

Harry groans, undeniably aroused, amused. He shakes his head at Draco. 

“Stop breaking character,” Harry whispers. He tries to sound stern but he knows he just comes across as breathless instead. 

“You like it,” Draco whispers back, and Harry can’t deny that. “Sorry, Auror Potter,” Draco says more loudly, slipping back into an attempt at being seductively contrite. “I forgot my place.” 

“Your place is in a cell,” Harry replies, unbuttoning his thick jacket. It's hot in here, too hot, and Draco’s eyes are too wide and grey, too knowing and innocent at the same time. Fuck, but he’s good at this; he plays his part so perfectly, the role fitting him like the expensive, kid gloves he slips over his fingers when he leaves their apartment every morning. 

Harry _knew_ he’d be fucking brilliant at this.

“It doesn't have to be,” Draco purrs, and Harry drops his jacket on the floor. “Keep me in here instead, and I could make it so worth your while.” 

“Oh?” Harry stands, towering over Draco. He’s looking up at Harry, still bound in the chair as he is. Harry steps closer, watches Draco sit back slightly, his eyes still so wide and eager. _Inviting_. Draco licks his lips and Harry almost croons. He steps closer still. 

“Yes,” Draco says, his voice a low promise. “I bet you could make it worth my while, too. Better than _they_ can, anyway.”

Harry groans, hand moving to cup his groin. He massages himself gently, listens as Draco’s breath hitches, his pupils dilating. One more step, and Harry’s standing in front of Draco’s face. 

“Tell me what you do,” he grinds out, fingers toying with the button of his trousers, the heavy buckle of his belt. “With them.” 

Draco’s eyes flash, mouth curving into a smile, before he licks his lips, rolling them together. “Whatever they want me to.” His eyes never leave Harry’s, not even as Harry begins to undo his zip. _Fuck_ , he’s so hard, he thinks as he pulls his cock free, the hem of his underwear pressing against his balls. His prick is hot in his hand as he runs his fingers over it, swallowing at the thick jolt of pleasure it brings. Draco’s eyes never leave his, although can see the effort it takes him not to look at Harry’s hand. His throat works as Harry’s belt clanks gently, as Harry eases his trousers down lower, and Harry tries not to smirk. He gives in, and does it anyway, his cock throbbing when Draco’s eyes only dilate further at the sight. 

“Tell me,” Harry repeats, as he slides his fist up and down his cock, “what they pay you to do.” He flicks his thumb over the head. 

“Oh, I do a lot.” Draco’s voice is bold, but his eyes are burning as he stares up at Harry, cheeks flushing the faintest pink. For Draco, that’s as telling as it gets. “I’m quite popular.”

Harry groans, fist tightening reflexively. “Fuck,” he murmurs, moving his free hand into Draco’s hair. Draco hums his approval, tilting his head back further. 

“They want everything,” he continues, his voice a low rumble, a tiger’s purr. “My hands, my mouth. Oh, most of all, they want my mouth.” He turns his face into Harry’s palm, as Harry caresses his cheek, thumb skating over the sharp line of his cheekbone. “They want me on my knees, lips around their cocks, and I’m good at it. You should see, Auror Potter, how _good_ I am at that.”

Harry’s mouth falls open on a sound, fist moving steadily as he pumps himself now, Draco’s eyes wide and fierce as they look up at him, his lips plump and full. Harry runs his thumb over his bottom lip, pulls it down, and Draco sighs. Harry thinks about him on his knees, in front of countless, nameless men, and his cock throbs in his hand; he knows exactly how good Draco’s lips feel. 

“I could suck the Thames dry,” Draco goes on, as Harry runs his fingers down Draco’s throat. Harry laughs, a soft bark of a sound, as he grips Draco’s neck lightly, then releases. He moves to the collar of Draco’s expensive silk shirt. 

“Sometimes, they want to fuck me.” Draco’s tongue flicks out, wetting his lips. Harry undoes the top button of Draco’s shirt, and then the next. His knuckles bump against the flushed line of Draco’s neck, as he pushes Draco's shirt open. Another button, another strip of pale skin exposed as Draco murmurs, “they offer me as much gold as they can fit in their greedy little hands for that.”

Harry moves his own hand faster, panting openly now. He can see the jut of Draco’s collarbone, the tremble of his throat as he swallows. 

“They want me on my back, and on my knees, want me spread out and begging, and I won’t lie.” Draco grins, his forehead damp as Harry opens his shirt further, runs a trembling finger over the top of one scar. “I _do_ love that.” He runs his tongue along his teeth. 

Harry’s bites his tongue, gently, lip curling as he feels his balls tighten. He runs his thumb down, to a scar just above Draco’s nipple. They’re thin, delicate, pale lines, what’s left of _Sectumsempra_ , not thick and distinct like the remnant of the Mark on Draco’s left arm. Harry loves them, hates them, can’t get enough of leaving his own marks on top of them. He presses his thumb down, so close to the sensitive nub of Draco’s nipple and yet not quite touching, and Draco gasps, swallows hard. He’s hard, cock tenting the expensive cut of his trousers. _‘Ruining the lines, Potter’_ , Draco would say, and Harry moves his hand faster, choking on the gasping sound that wants to come out of his mouth. 

“But I don’t let them fuck me,” Draco’s voice is shaking slightly, his breath leaving him in short pants. “That’s not for sale. It drives them wild, not being able to buy that one thing, and that’s almost as good as being fucked. Sometimes better.” Draco inhales sharply, smiling rakishly as Harry’s fingers slip to his nipple. “And of course, they’ve always stopped complaining by the time I bend them over myself.” He pushes his chest into Harry’s hand, his mouth parted, and Harry’s eyes flutter shut on a groan. 

Draco’s smile widens, sharp teeth on display. “You should see how good I am at _that_ , Auror Potter.”

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, feeling his legs tremble, his knees almost buckling with the swoop of arousal. “ _Fuck!_ ”

The pleasure is liquid and fire as it races up Harry’s thighs, pools thick and electric at the base of his spine, and like that he’s coming. His head tilts back, a shattered groan piercing the quiet of the room as he shoots over his fist, onto Draco’s shirt, his chin, the scars crisscrossing his chest. Again and again, his cock pulses, his chest heaving as he grips Draco’s open shirt, the fine, pearl buttons leaving dents in the soft flesh of Harry’s palm. 

“God.” Harry sways, his eyes wanting to shut. He forces them to stay open, looks down to meet smoky grey. “Fuck, Malfoy. _Draco_. Fuck!”

Draco swallows, legs spreading wider in invitation, in request. His cock is a hard, visible line against the soft grey wool, his glistening chest rising and falling with quick, heated breaths as he stares up at Harry, silently imploring. 

Harry releases his cock, hissing at the sensitive throb of it, and drops to his knees. He pulls at Draco’s fly with messy, shaky fingers, and Draco rolls his shoulders, cants his hips on a moan. He barely manages a _fuck, Harry_ , before Harry is pulling his cock free, sucking him down. He tastes the bitter tang of precome at the head of Draco’s cock, and he swirls his tongue around it, before taking him down as far as he can. Draco is so hard, so ready, his thighs quivering with tension as his head drops back, his mouth as he groans, loud and wanton. It only takes three quick movements of Harry’s mouth, wet and tight as he sucks, and Draco is coming, hot and fast down Harry’s throat. 

“Fuck,” he pants, rolling his hips as Harry sucks at his sensitive skin, pulling away with a loud sound. “Fuck!” 

“Mmm.” Harry sits back on his heels, nuzzling into Draco’s thigh, surreptitiously wiping his mouth as he feels Draco still and then settle. Harry strokes one hand over Draco’s calf. “Christ, that was hot,” he mumbles. 

“You're telling me.” Draco exhales shakily, shoulders relaxing. His arms are still bent away, and Harry quickly casts his unlocking charm, lets the cuffs fall away. Draco sighs in relief, groaning as he pulls his arms forwards and then rubbing at one wrist with long fingers. They must hurt, Harry thinks, must be aching. He isn't sure if he’s more turned on or appreciative that Draco did that for him, sat in an uncomfortable chair and let Harry throw solid cuffs and an imaginary rap sheet at him. Something in Harry’s chest tightens, and he stands, quickly. 

“Merlin, Harry.” Draco exhales loudly on a laugh when Harry pulls him to his chest, their undone belts clacking together. He kisses Draco once, and then again deeper, holding his sore wrists in his hands. Draco’s shirt is still half undone, Harry’s drying come still spread over his flushed chest, his collar. Harry’s chest aches beautifully. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs into Draco’s cheek. “For doing this. For… Just, thank you.”

Draco hums, contented and low. “Happy birthday,” he replies in a low tone. He makes no attempt to clean himself off, to right his shirt, and Harry hangs off the open sides of it, clenches them tightly in his fist. 

Harry’s so in love with the beautiful bastard it makes him giddy. 

“Next time,” Draco licks the shell of Harry’s ear, “I’m gonna take your virginity.” 

“You what?” Harry laughs, still a little breathless. “Draco, I’m afraid that ship has long since sailed, as you are well ― oh.” Harry swallows at Draco’s heated gaze, as his meaning settles in. _Next time we play this game, Harry_. Harry thinks about Draco pushing inside him, about the things he might croon in his ear. He imagines what it would feel like to let Draco be his first, even though, as Harry said, it’s a long time since he’s been anything close to virginal. 

He thinks waiting until his next birthday is going to be way too fucking long. 

“Yeah.” Harry smiles, then clears his suddenly dry throat. “Yeah. We can do that.” He rubs his lips over Draco’s, imagines Draco can still taste himself on them. “I want that,” he rumbles against Draco’s mouth. 

And Draco grins.

*

**Author's Note:**

> [Comments] and [kudos] are love! Come find me on [LJ ](http://shiftylinguini.livejournal.com/profile/)or [tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard)<3


End file.
